


Stockholm Syndrome

by Aevintyr



Series: Invincible [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Established Relationship, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:44:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aevintyr/pseuds/Aevintyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident leaves Tony and Loki stranded in Stockholm, Sweden. With Loki’s magic rapidly deteriorating, they have to find out what exactly happened to them … Maybe it wasn’t an accident, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a wonderful holiday in Stockholm. It takes place about a year after Invincible and immediately after the interlude One Ring, but can also stand on its own. There’ll just be a few references to the previous parts and AoU. As the Invincible ‘verse is not the rosiest of places, as ever, see end notes for more detailed warnings. 
> 
> I’ve taken minor liberties with Dr Strange’s origin story to make it fit the MCU. I don't own Marvel, I'm not American (or Swedish in this case), you know the drill.

“Är du okej?”

“Huh?” Tony blinked at the blonde woman who was looking at him with some concern.

“Are you okay?” she asked, with a slight accent he couldn’t place.

“Oh yeah, sure,” he said. _You know how it is, one minute you’re breaking into a high security vault on Nidavellir and the next minute you’re - where exactly are we?_ , he didn’t say. She looked human, though. Behind her, a bustling crowd of touristy people were crowding a square with oddly colored buildings, green and red and yellow. Earth, Tony realized with a start. This was Earth.

“What about your friend?” the woman asked.

Loki. He was sitting on the curb to Tony’s right, head in his hands. Tony’s breath caught. Confusion was instantly replaced by worry. But the woman was still watching.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine.” He gave her his most winning smile. “Thanks for your concern, though.”

The woman frowned. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

“Oh no, you must have me mixed up with someone else. I’m nobody.” Ouch. That hurt. “Now if you’ll excuse me …”

With another smile, Tony hunkered down next to Loki. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman walk away. Thanks for small mercies. Some of the other tourists were giving them odd looks, but no one stopped, their attention absorbed by a violinist and a juggler performing in front of a fountain with several amphorae on it. All of this felt so _old_. They had to be somewhere in Europe.

For more important matters, though … “Loki? What the fuck happened?”

Loki winced. He didn’t look up. “I have no idea.”

Tony didn’t like the sound of that one bit, not the content and certainly not the hoarse, tense voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I …” Loki winced again. Then he did look up. With red eyes.

“Shit. Your eyes … Is your magic alright?”

“No.”

Tony flinched. If Loki’s magic was acting up, they were screwed. “That’s not supposed to happen, how _can_ that even happen?” And besides … “Does it hurt? Are you okay? Come on, talk to me, please.”

Loki heaved a sigh. The effort sounded painful. “Can’t,” he managed.

Okay. Fuck what happened, Tony had to get Loki off this square, off the street entirely, and … do … _something_. He located his phone, but it was still calibrating. Not used to Earth parameters. Great.

He cast a look around. To his left, the violinist was reaching a crescendo. The crowd were applauding. To his right rose an impressive building which dominated this side of the square. _Nobelmuseet_ , the banner read, and on top of the building, _Svenska Akademien_. Right.

Some tourists were unfolding a map they’d retrieved from a dispenser. That looked handy. “Hang in there, I’ll be right back.” Tony squeezed Loki’s shoulder, then got up and procured a map.

He sat back down next to Loki. “Hey. We’re in Stockholm, Sweden, apparently.”

“Midgard? Northern Europe?” Loki asked, his voice full of doubt.

“I think so. Yeah.”

The sky above them was blue. A balmy summer evening. Wasn’t it supposed to be cold up North? The air was clear, though. Much clearer than Tony remembered. Closer to Utgard than New York.

In front of them, a group of tourists was taking pictures on their iPhones. Earth. Of course. Tony swallowed. He hadn’t been back on this planet, this _realm_ , for a year …

Next to him, Loki gasped, in pain.

Tony had to focus. “We need to find some place to stay. Hide. From … something. Until we figure this out. Whatever. Hold on.” He unfolded the map. Thankfully, it was in English and had markers for hotels. Not that he had any cash, but … “Can you get up?”

“Working on it,” Loki muttered.

The worry tugging at Tony’s mind gave him a violent jolt.

There was some commotion at the other side of the square. The violinist stopped playing, for one, and people were raising their phones. “Check out that cosplay,” some American tourist shouted to his friends, before being shoved aside by a dwarf. Uh-oh …

“Okay, honey, you’re going to _have_ to get up, right the fuck _now_.” Tony jumped to his feet, dragged Loki up as well, and dodged behind a group of Chinese tourists that had just descended on the square. Their attention was engaged by the museum, but one of them, a bald man, was looking straight at them. Tony ignored him. They had to get away from the dwarf.

 _Don’t run, walk_ , Natasha’s voice said in the back of his mind. So Tony walked. Several narrow alleys led away, so Tony turned into the nearest one, turned left, and left again, unsure whether he was getting away from the square at all. The map had called this the Old Town of Stockholm. Silly Europeans, couldn’t they build their roads straight?

A look over his shoulder confirmed the dwarf was still behind them. Tony turned into Västerlänggatan, which appeared to be the main tourist trap, with gift shops left, right and center. He narrowly missed a group of teenagers charging past with plastic swords and horned helmets. Up ahead, an elderly couple was admiring the display of yet another gift shop, scenic postcards, shot glasses with Swedish flags, and wooden red horses for some reason. People were _everywhere_. Perfect to lose a tail.

“Look, do you think this troll belongs to the tourist attractions?” the elderly man was saying.

Shit. Tony dragged Loki along, down the road. Loki did follow, but wasn’t exactly responsive. Not good. Not good at all. Tony snatched a baseball cap off an unsuspecting teenager, then called on his worst downtown Manhattan experiences as he slalomed around the tourists. If anything, the dwarf would be slowed down by people demanding selfies.

He dodged into the next best shop that looked big enough to have a back door and … froze. Right in front of him stood a life-size model of Captain America.

“How appropriate,” Loki observed in a thin voice. “Should we perhaps move further into the shop?”

“Yeah.” Tony drew the cap deeper into his face. Loki was communicating in full sentences. Focus on the positive …

They passed a cabinet full of Avengers action figures, Black Widow, War Machine, Scarlet Witch, some people Tony didn’t even recognize … No Iron Man in sight, though. Tony looked away.

Onwards. Books. Lots and lots of books. _Skräck_ , the shelf directly in front of them proclaimed. Judging from the covers, it had to be Swedish for “horror.” Tony pulled a book down at random and flipped through the pages.

“I think we lost him,” Loki whispered.

That was something. “How are you feeling?”

Loki grimaced. “We should find shelter, while we can.”

“Yeah.” Tony put the book back. Worry threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, but he fought it down. “My phone is still calibrating. I did have a European bank account, under an alias, let’s hope that one’s still out there and accessible. They got some weird stuff going on with currencies in Europe. And I’m a bit … out of touch. With, erm, everything. You know.”

“Yes. I do.” Loki winced, then put a hand on the shelf next to him, to keep himself upright. Shit. They’d wasted enough time.

“Excuse me?” Tony asked one of the staff passing by. “You wouldn’t happen to have a back door? We’re trying to get away from our awful tourist group, you see …”

The guy actually grinned. Disliking big tourist groups had to be a human universal. “Sure, follow me, sir …”

“And while you’re at it, could you point us to the next bank?”

 

#

 

Armed with Swedish crowns and his best smile, Tony walked up to the slick-looking counter of the hotel. Outside, night was falling. No sign of the dwarf.

“Excuse me, uh …” His gaze dropped to the receptionist’s name tag, “Clea. We’re passing through your wonderful city, and we’re wondering whether you have any vacancies.”

“Welcome to Stockholm.” She smiled. “Yes, we do have vacancies available. IDs, please?”

“Uh … Small problem here. You see, our fantastic airline has managed to lose our luggage, and had to hold on to our passports for some reason … We can pay for the room, don’t worry, I still have some cash on me, but it’s all a bit of a mess, to be perfectly honest, and we just want to get some rest. Please?”

“Okay,” Clea said. “But just this once. Tomorrow, I need your IDs.”

“Sure thing.” Tony smiled.

“Can I get your names, at least?”

“James Stane.” Best keep with the name on his European bank account … He’d even had a fake ID for that, once. Somewhere in his Tower. But he hadn’t thought about covers for Earth in a long time. Not for himself, and certainly not for Loki … Earth just hadn’t been on the cards.

When Clea looked at Loki, he said, “Lars Lund.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from Scandinavia.”

“My father was Norwegian,” Loki replied, without missing a beat. His voice was almost steady. “I grew up in London.”

“I’m sorry.” She busied herself with entering their not-so-real data. “And I’m sorry again, we only seem to have double beds available.”

Tony had to stifle a laugh. “That won’t be a problem.”

“How long will you be staying?”

“Let’s say two nights for now, we need to figure out what to do about our luggage and everything.”

“Very well.” She pushed two keys across the counter. “Room 237 for you, sir. Breakfast is from 7-11am.”

“You’re a star, Clea.”

 

#

 

The room was stylish in the modern-black-and-white kind of way, but tiny, compared to the hotels Tony had frequented in the heydays of Stark Industries. It felt like a hundred years ago. But this room was here, and safe. For now.

“Loki?”

No reply; Loki just collapsed into his arms. Fuck. Tony half-dragged, half-carried him over to the bed. At least that looked comfortable. With practiced ease, Tony got rid of Loki’s boots and the not-quite-armor leather coat.

He contemplated taking a shower, but then he didn’t want Loki to wake up to find him gone. So Tony just slipped off his boots and outer layers as well and climbed onto the bed.

Loki turned to him, probably on instinct, and curled against his side. Tony fought down another wave of acute despair. In far too many ways, this was a reversal of how this crazy trip had started, in Boston, when he’d been so sick … Which meant that this time, it was up to Tony to fix it. Whatever “it” was.

Practical thoughts, he reminded himself. One step at a time. His phone. He could start with that.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

Was Loki feeling any better? Judging from the protective position, the slight shivers and the way he’d slurred the name, no. Tony brought up his left arm around Loki’s shoulders in hopes it wouldn’t hurt him. If the magic was acting up, the shape-shifting would soon follow … and then they would be in deep shit.

“Are you okay?”

Tony frowned. “You’re asking me? It’s not like I’m the one who’s had his life-support system ripped out.”

Loki made a small noise that might, if he were more awake, have been intended as a chuckle. Tony chose to take that as a good sign. But it didn’t make his worry disappear. He tightened his grip, gently.

“No,” Loki whispered. “But you did call me honey.”

Tony’s heart thudded in his chest. It made the arc reactor scar ache.

“I’m going to make this okay,” he whispered. The phone in his right hand was unresponsive. “Somehow.”

He lay there, in the darkness, fiddling with his phone, but mostly listening. It took a long time until Loki’s breathing evened out.

 

#

 

Tony must have fallen asleep at some point because he jerked awake when a phone rang. His left arm had gone dead, but then Loki was still sleeping on that. Good. Sleep was good. Sleep meant that if he was in pain, at least he didn’t know it. Tony exhaled.

Only when Loki stirred did Tony notice the ringing phone was theirs. He located the receiver. “Yeah?”

“Mr Stane?” Clea asked. “I’m sorry if I have woken you, but Norwegian Airline sent along your passports. They’re still trying to locate the luggage and wanted me to express their profound apologies. I thought you might want to know immediately.”

“They, uh … what?”

“Your _passports_ , Mr Stane. Do you want to collect them or shall I have them sent up to your room?”

“Uh …” What passports? There weren’t any passports. Tony contemplated whether he was still dreaming, or maybe that was just the lack of caffeine speaking.

“Tell you what, since you appear to have missed breakfast, I’ll send something up along with your passports. Sounds good?”

“Sure,” Tony mumbled. “Thanks.” He supposed.

“Have a good day, Mr Stane.”

“You too.” He hung up.

Next to him, Loki groaned. “What is going on?” He was even paler than usual, Tony noticed. And his eyes were still red.

“I have no fucking clue. How are you feeling?”

Another groan. “Like a horde of bilgesnipe trampled over me.”

“Oh. Can I, uh … can I do anything?”

“No.” Tony winced at the harsh sound of his least favorite word in the world. Damn it. With effort, Loki heaved himself up into a sitting position. For want of better options, Tony did the same. “Who was on the phone?”

A simple question that required an answer. That he could do. If nothing else. “Clea. The receptionist. She’s sending up some breakfast. And our passports.”

“Our what?”

A knock on the door. “Let me get that, and we’ll see.”

Tony dragged himself out of bed. Outside, there was their room service with two generous helpings of French breakfast and … passports. One American, one British.

“Uh … thanks,” Tony said.

“At your service, Mr Stane.”

As soon as the door had closed, Tony flicked open the American one. His picture was looking back at him. James Edward Stane, it read. “Something seriously weird is going on.”

“Oh, you think?” Loki scoffed. “And don’t give me that look, Tony, I’m not going to keel over and die. Not yet. What do you have there?”

“Those are definitely passports.” Tony settled down on the bed as well and handed Loki the British one. Practical things, yes … “And breakfast. Looks alright, doesn’t it?”

Loki grimaced. “I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care.” Tony handed him one of the plates. Reversal indeed … “Eat.”

“Aye, sir.” Loki managed something approximating a smile. It made Tony wince again.

Food was a good idea, though. Coffee, too. Coffee did solve everything, right?

Loki was munching on a croissant. “I may not be at the height of my mental capacities, but those passports have no way of existing, do they?”

“Nope. I used to have one for a James Stane, but … actually, I have no clue what happened to any my stuff, let alone hidden fake IDs. Anyway. I never forged an ID for you. And if I had, it wouldn’t have been with Norwegian Airlines. I didn’t even know that airline existed.”

“Interesting.” Loki flicked his open. It had a picture of his and everything, looking completely genuine.

Tony peered over. “Hey, whoever made this thinks you’re thirty-four? Bastard.”

“I do keep in shape. What’d they say for you … fifty? Well, that is only off by a mere three years, isn’t it?”

“Shut up.” Tony busied himself with the passport instead. “Okay, James Stane was born in New York and he’s been to Bern, to Venice, to Afghanistan, to Monaco … hang on. That’s all places I’ve actually been to. With the correct dates, even. What the fuck? What does yours say?”

“Born in Tønsberg, Norway, raised in London,” Loki said. “Only left the Europe once, apparently, to go to New York. In May 2012.”

They looked at each other.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Is it just me or is this getting creepier by the second?”

“It’s not just you.” Loki flipped through the pages of his passport, frowning. “Do you have one of these?” He held up a red-and-white piece of paper that looked like a ticket.

“Hang on.” Tony shook his passport. An identical paper fell out. “Entrance Admission,” he read out, “Statens historiska museum, and an Stockholm address. That’s got to be, what, some museum?” He cross-checked with the map. “Yep. Swedish History Museum.”

“What is going on here?” Loki asked, gaze fixed on the map.

“Nothing good, I’d wager. Probably some kind of elaborate mind-fuck trap, built by someone with a long grudge and a sick sense of humor.”

At least, it made Loki laugh. When he looked up, his red eyes had regained some of their usual mischievous glint. “Want to go and find out?”

“Hell yes.” Tony grinned back. “Let’s go learn something about Swedish history. Hey, does that mean Vikings?”

 

#

 

Tony left Loki under strict orders to finish breakfast, while he went out and got some supplies from the stores across the street. Change of clothes, for one, and sunglasses to hide Loki’s red eyes. A pocket knife. Wasn’t it nearly impossible to buy a gun in Europe? No hardware stores in sight either. Tony sighed. They were all but defenseless. Who was doing this? They might have pissed off a few dwarves in their efforts to help Ygnvi locate his wayward self-duplicating ring, but … Surely not that much? Whatever had happened to the dwarf chasing them, and all that? It made no sense.

“Hey, Loki?” Tony dropped his purchases next to the door of their hotel room. “I’m back.”

Next to the bed, the breakfast tray looked exactly as it had when Tony had left. Even the coffee. He cursed beneath his breath. The shower was running, though.

Tony knocked on the bathroom door. “Loki? Do you mind? Are you okay?”

No reply. Fuck this. Tony opened the door. The air inside was humid, but ice-cold. Loki was leaning against the tiles beneath the spray, head back and eyes closed.

“Loki?” Tony tried again.

With a shudder, Loki straightened up and looked at him. “My apologies. You will not want to join this particular shower. I won’t be another minute.”

“Take as long as you want,” Tony managed, before turning away, towards the basins and the mirror. He had his own stuff to focus on. After all, Tony Stark was not supposed to walk around Stockholm, or anywhere on Earth. Tony Stark was dead.

He unpacked the new razor. If nothing else, he could disassemble it and have another weapon of sorts. The thought made him want to laugh. With a sigh, he set to work on his beard.

The shower stopped when he was toweling off his chin. It felt weird, all that bare skin. He could hear steps behind him and turned to face Loki, who was still dripping wet, and somehow too thin, and …

“Different,” Loki observed. “Not a bad look for you, mind. But … different.”

“It’ll grow back. Once we’re off planet again. I mean, iconic looks and all that, maybe not the best strategy and I can’t do that on Earth, can I, I can’t do anything on Earth …”

He hadn’t even set foot onto this planet since Osborn. Since he’d officially died, and Steve had more or less told him to stay dead because that was better for everyone, himself included, and he knew, he _knew_ , he just … A wild yearning for Manhattan surged through him, not unlike that insatiable craving for a drink that was a constant presence in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes.

“Tony?” Loki asked, worried. “Tony, look at me.”

He did, into red eyes surrounded by skin that had a somewhat unhealthy shade, a slightly blue shade, because Loki, of course, was Jötun, and he’d been raised to believe those were monsters, on Asgard where he hadn’t set foot in a year either and … The realization of his own selfishness rolled over Tony, and he had to grab the rim of the basin for support. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Loki was smiling, but they were also standing at arm’s length. Tony wanted, _needed_ to touch him so badly it reduced all other cravings to a mere murmur. Loki must have sensed it, because he moved closer and drew Tony into a cold, but ah so welcome embrace. And yet … “Isn’t this hurting you even more?”

“Yes,” Loki whispered, “but I do not care.” He trailed a hand over Tony’s bare chin, it felt so weird, almost wrong, but Tony didn’t care either. When Loki finally kissed him, he only felt relief.

Before he could reach for Loki and deepen the kiss, though, Loki stepped back. It took all Tony had to stay put, his selfishness again raging at him in the back of his mind.

“Go shower,” Loki said.

“Go eat,” Tony replied.

With another grimace, Loki reached for a towel and walked out of the bathroom.

Shower. Right. Practical things.

 

#

 

“Very well,” Loki said when Tony came into the bedroom. At least he’d managed to finish that croissant. Or found enough energy to hide it. “Before we walk into this trap, do we have any leads? Anything at all?”

Thinking. Loki was thinking. That was … good. Necessary, too, but … good. Tony slumped down onto the bed and started thinking, too. “I guess apart from whatever will happen at the museum, our only lead is Clea. The receptionist who logged us in yesterday.” He frowned. “She didn’t seem particularly suspicious, but then she is the one who bought the bogus story about the passports, and she was the one who sent them up …”

“Perhaps you should go and work some charm on her.” Loki winked. Actually winked.

“Hah fucking hah.”

“She seems to like you.”

“If she’s the one working against us, she’s also the baddie.”

“So are _we_ the _good_ people?”

It gave Tony pause. “Huh,” he said. “I suppose we aren’t. Meet in the lobby in five?”

“Yes.”

 

#

 

Clea was still behind the reception desk when Tony approached.

“Hi,” he said. “Now that I’ve ingested sufficient quantities of caffeine, let me thank you properly. We’re so relieved that at least the passports are back. And breakfast was fantastic.”

“It’s the least I could do.” She smiled at him.

“Still …” Tony casually leaned against the counter. He was out of practice in this game. Who would have thought. “There’s got to be something I can do to repay you.”

“Well …” Her smile shifted into something more suggestive. “You could always buy me a drink.”

Tony almost flinched. In the back of his mind, the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist was laughing at him. “Let’s make it a coffee and you got a deal.”

“Fine by me. What are your plans for today, then?”

“Oh, nothing too specific.” Tony made a few vague gestures. “We thought we’d make the best of the time we have here. Lars is a bit of a history nerd, so we’re off to the Swedish History Museum first, and take it from there.”

“Good choice.” Clea nodded in approval. “My shift ends at 5pm. See you soon, Mr Stane.”

“James, please.”

“See you soon, James.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Loki approach, sunglasses and all, but no waver in his steps. Alright. Game on.

 

#


	2. Chapter 2

They made their way out of the hotel at a gingerly pace, but for the moment, Loki seemed fine.

So far, so good. Their hotel was on the corner of Humlegarden, fairly close to the History Museum. Tony wouldn’t put it past their pursuer to have arranged that somehow. He couldn’t recall what had made him pick this hotel of all places.

He dug out his phone, which had almost finished calibrating. That was … something. Still, there was no telling how much more erratic Loki’s magic would become. And he’d need to be on the lookout. For dwarves, for other lethally minded creatures, and for Loki’s steps, in case he stumbled.

So Tony tried to focus on his surroundings. Stockholm, he realized, was a very pretty place. The blue skies overhead and the bright sunshine helped, but all those old, colorful buildings had a certain charm. They weren’t even in the Old Town now, walking down a broad street called Karlavägen that seemed to be mostly business, judging from people in expensive suits with laptop cases. A few embassies, too. Tony spotted a Malaysian flag, and what was that white-and-red one, Poland. The street would be wide enough for four lanes, but instead it had a green strip in the middle with lots of trees and a walking path. The air smelled of the sea.

They had reached a square called Karlaplan, a massive roundabout, ringed with trees. In the middle of the circle, a giant fountain was gushing water into the sky. There were plenty of benches around as well, with people sitting, reading, chatting, sunbathing.

“You okay?” Tony asked Loki, in a low voice. “Museum shouldn’t be far, but we can stop here for a bit if you want.”

“I’m _fine_.” Judging from the tense, pissed off voice, Loki was anything but fine. Not worth the risk of an argument though.

As they made their way past the fountain and onto Narvavägen that led up to the museum, Tony said, “Okay, so we don’t know what the reason is for our being sent here, right? Shall we …?”

 _Shall we play a game_? Maybe it would make Loki focus.

“Fine,” Loki said.

Tony exhaled in relief. Game on.

An advertising board showed them the way, displaying a child and something about getting to meet the Vikings. When they approached the steps of the massive beige building, a coach pulled up with a group of Chinese tourists. Good. A large group would distract the museum authorities’ attention away from Loki, should he waver.

One member of the tourist group was looking at them. A bald man. He seemed familiar. Was that the same guy they had encountered in the Old Town? Surely that would be too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence? He was the only member of the group paying them any attention. All the others were chatting or taking selfies. But that man did not engage with anyone, and the others seemed to look straight through him. Odd.

“Hey, uh, Lars,” Tony whispered. “Don’t look now, but one of the Chinese guys is staring at us, and I think I’ve seen him before, yesterday, when we arrived, so to speak.”

“Fascinating.”

In other words, _shut the fuck up unless it’s useful_. With a sigh, Tony followed Loki into the museum.

To their right, a flight of stairs went down to a so-called Gold Room, and up ahead, a corridor led to a Viking exhibition. Children could be heard squealing in delight.

Tony got out his phone. Recalibration complete. Finally. He tested it by running a discreet scan on Loki while they walked over to the Viking exhibition and presented their tickets to the guard, who waved them through.

Loki’s own magic, readings Tony knew so well, was draining at an alarming speed. From what Tony could tell, all remaining strength went into maintaining the shape-shifting. Something must have blocked his access to… what? Magic in general? How was that even possible?

Tony remembered that when he’d met Loki on Earth for the second time, Odin had suppressed Loki’s access to his magic, but not like this. Loki had been weaker than usual, but the shape-shifting had not been affected. At least not by the time Tony had got him out from HAMMER. Maybe he should have asked about that. He should have asked about a lot of things.

Up ahead was a large, darkened hall full of Viking artefacts. Showcases stuffed with helmets and swords, a reconstruction of a grave on the floor that a few children were squealing over, and a lot of clothes. Even a model of a Viking village.

Loki stood very upright. Having trouble keeping himself that way?

Tony cursed beneath his breath. After short deliberation, he slung an arm around Loki’s waist. “Roll with it. Can’t risk drawing more attention to ourselves.”

“And what exactly is it you think you are doing?” Loki hissed.

Tony elected to ignore that. _Unless it’s useful …_ “I’m guessing that whatever we have to do here will be under heavier security.”

So they made their way across the room, slaloming through kids playing with the touchable displays or the iPads.

 _Sweep the rooms_ , Tony told himself. Methodical scans. As if this were Alfheim and Lindir were hiding something. Or Finn’s vault on Nidavellir, where they were supposed to be right now. Ygnvi had to be wondering what had become of them. No, correction. Ygnvi would be worried about his gold. No help to be expected on that front.

The display ended in a large banner about Norse mythology. Tony saw Thor’s name, Odin of course and, yes, Loki. The last picture was of the eight-legged horse Sleipnir, along with the story. Loki must have spotted it, too, because he muttered, “Not a word,” and moved away from Tony’s side with brisker steps than he should be capable of, towards another showcase in the corner.

“Hey, honey?” Calling Loki honey at least was easier than trying to remember to call him Lars. What kind of name was that anyway. “Don’t leave my side, it makes me nervous. What have you got there?”

No reply, Loki just stared into the showcase. Something magical, no doubt. Tony came closer. The showcase contained, among other things, some sort of staff, or wand, that had belonged to a woman who had been buried with considerable riches on the Swedish island of Öland. A völva, a seeress or otherwise magically capable woman. Right.

“Völva as in the women who give prophecies in the Edda?” Tony asked. He didn’t know that much about the Vikings apart from some stories Loki had read to him. “Have you ever met one of those?”

“It was long time ago.” The hint of wistfulness in Loki’s voice made Tony more curious and more spooked at the same time. Probably an old love of Loki’s. Given that Tony had one thousand years of history to contend with, he could consider himself lucky he’d only met one of Loki’s exes so far, even though he still wanted to punch the guy. Entirely because of his obnoxious personality, of course, and not because he used to …

Tony cleared his throat. “Is that the reason we’re here, what do you think? It sure is magical.” He looked at his phone. “Or it was. I’m guessing this thing has some residual magic because it was in close contact with the völva, but that has worn off over the centuries of not-use because the staff itself isn’t magical? So only valuable for an antique dealer, not for a sorcerer.”

Loki made himself nod, more or less. Tony felt that sense of disproportionate accomplishment every time he figured out something about magic. He still had so much to catch up on …

But if it was only residual magic, why was Loki so transfixed? Tony ran a comparative analysis with other magical hijinks he’d encountered. He expected it to be old human magic, which, yes, he’d learned had existed way back when, but it looked more like something else, something …

“It’s Jötun,” Tony said, only half-surprised. “The magic that’s left … the völva was Jötun.”

No nod, but Tony knew he was right. It explained the reaction, too. The magic of Loki’s own kind would be the best short-term fix, but … Was his skin starting to turn blue around the eyes?

When Tony put a hand on Loki’s shoulder, he flinched violently. “Come on. We need to get you out of this room.”

“No,” Loki whispered, frantic.

“Yes,” Tony said. “This is aggravating your … condition. Whatever. You can’t process that stuff properly right now. And I can’t have you go blue on me in the middle of a museum. Come on.”

He tugged at Loki’s arm. It was a scary testament to the extent of Loki’s confusion that he followed. High time to get away.

Tony dragged Loki past a few smaller exhibition spaces asking the big questions of history ( _Who classifies your world?_ ) and into the restaurant, which had a unisex toilet attached to it.

The door of the bathroom had barely closed when Loki turned and slammed Tony against it. The force of impact knocked the breath out of Tony’s lungs. Ouch. Were Loki’s reactions fluctuating now? Just to mix things up a bit? Tony peered up into those red eyes. What he found wasn’t sheer fury, though. But he knew it well. Too well.

“Why did you do that?” Loki hissed.

Now was probably the time to be afraid, or to take evasive actions. Tony didn’t move. “Loki, listen to me. I know that look, alright? From the mirror. That’s withdrawal you’re going through. It’s messing with your mind.”

“And you’re doing what, exactly?”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Oh, of course. Noble Tony Stark. The minute we set foot on Midgard, you have to play the hero again, that is beyond ridiculous, that —”

Loki let go of him and would have collapsed onto the floor, if Tony hadn’t caught him.

“Shh,” he whispered. “I know you’re scared.” In his arms, Loki flinched. “It’s okay. I _know_ you, remember? I know.”

“Tony …”

Loki’s voice was breaking. Tony’s heart, too. Damn it all. He bent down and kissed the top of Loki’s hair. “I just don’t want to make it worse.” Wasn’t that what happened every time Tony Stark tried to fix something?

“You can’t make _this_ worse,” Loki whispered. “And besides … I know you, too.”

They looked at each other in tense silence. Tony cleared his throat. “You okay to continue?”

“No.” Loki disentangled himself and straightened up. “Let’s proceed.”

Outside the bathroom, Tony paused for a moment to consult a museum map. “The rest upstairs is post-Viking history. What are the odds that whatever brought us here is up there?”

“Slim,” Loki said, “but we should sweep it anyway.”

“Agreed.” Tony looked at the map again. “Oh, there’s something about a medieval massacre. Doesn’t that sound right up our alley?”

It might have been wishful thinking, but he thought he saw the corner of Loki’s mouth twitch.

 

#

 

“The Battle of Gotland 1361,” Tony read. “I have never heard of that. You?” Loki shook his head. “Wow, this is one messed up business. Apparently the nobles holed themselves up in that city when the invading army came and let the farmers die out there in front of the city walls. That is sick. 1800 people dead.”

Loki didn’t reply. He touched the showcase holding chain-mail armor and trailed his hand along the glass edge. Those damned cold, long fingers. Tony swallowed. “What is it?”

An unpleasant smile flickered across Loki’s face. “Can’t you feel it? This is what remains when so much blood is spilled in one day. Breathe it in, _honey_. Breathe.”

Frowning, Tony breathed. Air-conditioned, slightly stale museum air, and, from next to him, a whiff of leather and snow, and … Oh.

He could feel it suddenly, feel the unbreakable city walls in front of him, the storming hordes behind him, trapping them, the blood, spilling everywhere, from the farmers who where just trying to stay alive, the hostility emanating from the aggressors and the nobles within the city, and all the blood, yes the _blood_ …

Tony cleared his throat and blinked the museum back into focus. He felt vaguely sick. “What the fuck was that?”

Next to him, Loki was wavering on his feet. “My apologies. That might have been … feedback? Feedback from me. I’m … I don’t feel very well.”

No kidding. But at least he was admitting it. They had encountered another kind of magic, the universal kind evoked by blood and slaughter, but still, Tony felt fairly sure they hadn’t been led here to be educated about a massacre that had happened a couple of centuries ago.

If someone had wanted them, specifically, to come here, and wasn’t just messing with them for the hell of it, they wanted something stolen. Considering their combined expertise and recent renown across the Realms for, what had Freyja called it the other day, “the retrieval of lost objects.” So the museum held an object or several that someone else fancied belonged to them, whether it actually did or they just wanted it for themselves. Not that the difference mattered to Tony. If it got them out of this mess, he’d steal crown jewels. Wait, they didn’t have those in here, right? No, those would be at the Royalty Museum, which he recalled seeing on the map of the Old Town. If they were on display at all. So, something else.

Tony peered into the next room. It was made up like some sort of church. The ceiling rose to the some height, and it was stuffed full with wooden stuff that looked … old? Tony had a feeling he should be able to identify the time period at least. Pepper would be mad at him.

Loki exhaled. “Alright. Let us move on.”

 

#

 

They completed their course of Swedish history without major incidents. Tony even felt he had learned something. It hadn’t been as boring as he would have expected. For more important matters, though …

“I think it’s not up here, whatever we might have to find,” he said. “I mean, it might be the völva staff after all, but …”

“It’s not. Let’s see about this Gold Room,” Loki said.

“Yeah.”

Gold, after all, was magic in metal form. Considering their luck, it might be a ceremonial dagger under high security.

They had to show their tickets again, but didn’t encounter any issues. The broad red staircase led into a room with dimmed lights. There was a bit of gold on the floor, and some designs carved into it. So far, Tony wasn’t impressed.

The next room, however … It was round, with a small fountain in the middle, into which people had tossed golden coins. There was an inner circle with various golden ornamental stuff, like necklaces and rings, and on the outer circle, there were a series of other show cases with all sorts of other golden things. Household stuff, from what Tony could gather, chronologically ordered.

Apart from them, only a tall man was perusing the room, which seemed a bit strange since the museum above had been busy and this had to be one of the highlights. The tall man did not pay them any attention. He stood with his back to them halfway around the outer circle, hands in rather pretentious golden gloves clasped behind his back, contemplating some object or other.

“So this is probably where we find our magical mystery object,” Tony whispered. His voice seemed to echo in the low room. He cleared his throat. “Come on, let’s get this done. Or at least, get this figured out. Or something. Can you move?”

“I will have to,” Loki said. He took a cautious step, and then another, then stalked off to the first showcase of the outer circle.

The displays, then. Tony looked at some hairpins from way back when. Some of this stuff might be as old as Loki. The thought struck Tony as intimidating, but sort of cool. It also reminded him that Loki had survived worse than some idiot messing with his magic.

The tall man had moved as they had approached, and was now ambling towards the inner circle. Tony pretended to be interested in a tangle of golden … noodles or something, got his phone as if to take a picture or two, and checked his overtaxed scanner. Which showed him something going crazy next to him. Tony whirled around.

Loki had a hand on the red frame of the showcase. His breathing sounded far too forced now that Tony listened.

“Hey, honey? What is it?”

“It’s …” Loki swallowed convulsively. “It’s too much. My head, it’s …”

Shit. “Okay, then let’s get this done and get out of here. What have we got? Lots of magical shit in here, I think we can settle on that. Anything in particular that stands out to you?”

Loki shook his head, with something close to helplessness.

“Focus,” Tony hissed. “I know you can do this.”

“If I required patronizing pep talks from you, rest assured I would request them specifically.”

A testy reply was on the tip of Tony’s tongue, before he remembered their circumstances, and the way Loki’s hand clawed at the edge of that showcase. “Can we _not_ fight? At least, not until we’ve resolved this shit?” No reply. Tony took that as a yes. “Okay. My scanner is going crazy at all the input, I need to narrow this down somehow.”

“I might be able to assist with that. Be quiet.” Loki took a deep breath. “It’s one of the rings, I think?” Of course it was. “Yes. The inner circle. There is a bond between chieftain and subject that must never be broken, it is sacred to …” Loki blinked. “What was I saying?”

“Uh … sacred bond between chieftain and subject?” Tony said, without following his own words. He just stared at Loki, heart in his throat, and Loki still wasn’t okay and wasn’t getting any better and they weren’t _solving_ this and — Tony shook his head. He couldn’t afford to fall apart. “Okay. Magical bonding rings are magical. I think we got that covered. Sounds kind of kinky, at that. But still. Anything more specific?”

Loki frowned. “Yes, there is a ring … it is of ancient power. Vanir, I think. It was lost on the marshy plains of Fyrisvellir a long time ago, but not so far away from here.”

“Fyrisvellir?” Good. That was good. That was progress. Tony started typing on his phone.

“What are you doing?” Loki asked.

“Harnessing the infinite magic of the Internet. One second … Ah, there you go. The ring is called Svíragis, apparently. Not the major myths, but a fair few connections. Definitely magical. Do you think you can find the specific signature?”

“I have it.” Loki exhaled. “Now, what do we do with — Who is that?”

“Who is what?”

Tony turned around in search for anyone, but only found the tall guy, who’d completed his tour of the inner circle and was now moving towards the exit.

“He’s …” That was as far as Loki got before his legs gave way again. Tony just about managed to catch him. Fuck.

“Do you require any assistance?” the man called out, in a deep, concerned voice. American. “I’m a doctor.”

“Uh …” No human doctor would be able to help Loki, but then they were an inquisitive lot. “It’s his blood pressure I think, it gets too low sometimes. He’ll be fine. Just, uh …” Fuck that ring, really. They could find it again, if they had to, but who knew what they were supposed to do with it anyway. Loki’s health had to take priority now. “Could you help me get him out of here?”

“But of course.” The guy came closer and grabbed Loki’s other arm. Loki flinched, probably in surprise. “My name is Stephen Strange.”

Sure it was. “Pleased to meet you. I’m James Stane. This is Lars, Lars Lund.” Tony bent closer to Loki’s ear. “Hey, honey? We’re getting you out of here, okay? It’s not far, and then up those few stairs. One step at a time, remember? Like you always tell me. One step at a time.”

“I …” Loki shuddered.

“Shhh. Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.”

Together with Dr Strange, or whoever the fuck he really was, they made it to the exit, up the stairs, and out of the building.

“Rough day?” Strange asked when they had settled Loki down on a bench.

“I guess you could say that. We had some trouble with our flight. Canceled connection, airline lost our luggage, the whole shebang. It’s been a rough couple of days really.” Tony sighed, which was not entirely faked. “Thanks for your help.”

“Is there anything else you need? A place to lie down for Mr Lund, perhaps? A stiff drink?”

Tony swallowed as the all-too-familiar craving for exactly that kind of drink resurfaced. “No, thanks. I really wouldn’t want to impose on you. Our hotel is very close and Lars will be right as rain in no time. I got it from here.”

“Very well then.” Strange reached into his pocket, which made Tony tense, but he only produced his card with a flourish. “Should there be any issue, please do not hesitate to contact me. At any time.”

“Uh, thanks.” Tony took the card. _Doctor Stephen Strange, 177A Bleecker Street, New York City, NY 10012-1406_. “Greenwich Village, very nice,” he said, without thinking. Damn, he missed New York.

“Yes.” Strange shook his head. “Although I have been traveling a lot, after all these terrible things that happened in the city.”

Had he missed something really important? Couldn’t global catastrophes leave his city alone for once, if they had to happen at all? There was a whole wide world out there.

Strange continued, “Aliens, robots … Terrible business.”

Nothing new there. Just the same old, same horrible.

“Right,” Tony said. “Haven’t been back there for over a year myself. Avoiding the danger, so to speak.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Strange gave him an inscrutable look. Had he recognized Tony? Or Loki?

Tony looked at the card again. “Hey, what kind of a doctor are you, anyway?”

“I used to be a surgeon.” With another smile, Strange turned around and walked away, before Tony could ask, and what are you now?

Picked one accurate name, that guy. But alright. Tony pocketed the card and turned to Loki.

“Hey, honey? Do you think you can make it back to the hotel?”

Loki groaned. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

“One step at a time.”

 

#

 

At the hotel, Tony was relieved to see a different receptionist for once. He maneuvered Loki into the elevator, into their room and finally onto bed.

“Get some rest. I’ll try and make more sense of the readings from the museum, crack their security, the usual.”

Loki murmured his assent, before apparently going to sleep. Okay. Tony stood next to the bed at a total loss. What was he supposed to do if Loki didn’t get better soon? He could try and come up with a force field that reversed whatever was being done to Loki, if he managed to get to grips with the density of the data in the first place, but who could tell what kind of strain it would put on Loki because it would only be temporary and would attack his own magic as well and —

Damn, Tony needed a drink. He should probably eat something, and … _not_ drink. Not drink. Definitely not …

There was a knock on the door. “Mr Stane?” came the muffled voice of, yes, probably Clea. “Everything alright?”

This was their only other lead, and no way in hell was Loki getting anywhere near that museum again. So Tony answered the door. “Did I not tell you to call me James?” he said with his best seductive smile.

“James.” She smiled back, and let herself in. Not 5pm yet, was it? She was still in her uniform. “And where is your friend?”

“My …” Tony stifled a laugh. “Resting. The stress of the trip is getting to him a little. He’ll be fine.”

“Glad to hear it.” Clea dropped onto the sofa, then patted the space next to her. Right. Just how much “working your charm” had they been talking?

Nothing for it. Tony sat down. “I would offer you that coffee, but then this is your hotel, so that kind of makes the offer a bit superfluous.”

“I’m not interested in coffee.” A moment later, she was straddling Tony’s lap.

“Uhm, yeah, no,” he tried to say as she trailed her hands down his weirdly beardless chin. “I’ll have you know that I’m —”

“Gay? Oh, please.” She pressed her right hand against Tony’s cock, which, yes, was starting to respond. Fuck.

“Taken,” Tony gasped. He really, really needed to push her away. Her grip was strong, though. Hotel receptionist at day, bodybuilder at night? Didn’t seem like her thing, but … He needed information. And most of all, he needed Loki to be okay, Loki who was in the room next fucking door and — “In a committed relationship. _Very_ committed. You know, I am grateful to you, but not _that_ grateful. Get off me.”

Clea chuckled against his throat, then kissed it. Tony just about suppressed a moan. “Scared your boyfriend is going to waltz in here and have a nervous breakdown?”

Yep, because that would be exactly Loki’s reaction … Clea was kissing Tony’s neck again. Damn, his body was loving this. Two days with only one kiss from Loki and this was what he resorted to. Pathetic. If Loki woke up … Tony shuddered. “Get off me. Now. This has to stop.”

“No, please,” said a familiar voice from the bedroom door. “Do continue.”

Tony froze. On top of him, Clea did the same. Might be instinct … or maybe she did know that the last thing on Loki Laufeyson’s mind in a situation like this would be a nervous breakdown. Not when he could take his daggers and …

“Uh, honey …” Tony pushed at Clea again. This time, she did roll off him. “This isn’t …”

“What I think it is?” Loki’s laugh made Tony shiver. “Oh, but I sure hope it was. Did I not say, continue?”

 _Are you for real_ , Tony wanted to ask. Sometimes, he still couldn’t tell. He turned to Clea. “Get the fuck out. Now.”

“But _honey_ , why are you so rude to our guests?” Loki asked, his smile sickly sweet.

“Are you _insane_? Get _out_ ,” Tony hissed.

“Me, insane?” Clea chuckled. “I leave that to you. Mr _Stark_.”

What? Had she just … Before he could reply, the room swirled out of focus. Teleportation? What? Where? And who was doing this? Surely not Loki?

“Welcome,” said another voice, another familiar voice. Tony blinked the world back into focus, the world that included a smiling Dr Strange. “What a pleasure to meet you. Officially. Tony Stark and Loki Laufeyson.”

 

#


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. Life has been a bit ... hectic. But it's settled down now, so I can hopefully focus on writing a bit more again. I definitely haven't run out of ideas about these two.

_What the fuck_ , Tony thought. Or maybe he said it out loud.

“Please,” Strange said. “Have a seat, Mr Stark. You too, Mr Laufeyson.” He indicated a large green sofa in his - what was this? The room had a hotel-y look about it. Completely devoid of personal effects, for one.

A quick glance confirmed that Loki was standing upright and breathing normally. Okay. Most important factor dealt with. Second most important, then.

“Why are we here?” Tony asked.

“But Mr Stark, why such hostility?”

“Oh, wait, let me think about that for a moment, I’m stuck in the middle of Stockholm, or wherever the fuck we are now, there’s magical shit going ballistic all over the place and someone is clearly after us, probably you, and Loki is —” _Dying_. Tony swallowed, hard. He had to focus.

“But, Mr Stark, you have this the wrong way around.”

“Do I.” Tony produced his new passport from his pocket. “And what’s this, hm? Clea, she work for you? And that Chinese guy?”

“To keep you safe.”

Okay, Strange had gone from evasion to the first outright lie. Or so Tony estimated. Loki would be the better judge, but … He’d better keep Strange talking, maybe he’d reveal a bit more. “Safe from what?”

“The dwarves, Mr Stark. Finn? His vault on Nidavellir? I noticed a disturbance in the dimensions, and went to have a look, the found you in your … predicament.”

“Uh-huh. And you decided to help us because … Hippocratic Oath? Cut the crap. You need us to do something for you.”

“What can I say, your reputation precedes you.”

“So you need us to do, what? Steal something from the museum?”

Strange chuckled. “If you want to be that direct, yes.”

Tony looked sidewards at Loki again. No reaction. This one was on him. So. What did he know? Doctor Crazy had to be up to something other than retrieving people from between dimensions to do his dirty work. Especially people with as much of a _reputation_ across the Nine Realms as the two of them …

He checked his phone. It was barely 2pm. If they wanted to break into the museum, or were pretending to be entertaining the notion, it would have to happen at night. Playing along would buy them some time, and get Loki out of the reach of another, possibly malicious sorcerer. Retrieving whatever Strange wanted would hand them a bargaining chip. So, yeah. Play along.

“Alright then, stealing, no problem, let’s get the show on the road. What have you got?”

“What can you offer me?”

Testing. Strange was testing them. Probably had been the entire time, with the passports and the tickets, throwing them random bread crumbs to see what they could do. What they could _offer_. The question was, should they _want_ to pass that test? Did it matter? Might as well go all out.

“Svíagris,” Tony said. For just a moment there, Strange looked surprised. Good. “And let me guess, it must be retrieved before it falls into the wrong hands. Why should we give it to you, then?”

Strange smiled. It looked vaguely terrifying. He waved his gold-cloved hand, once. Next to Tony, Loki gasped. Tony whirled around, but Loki wasn’t doubling over again. Instead he stared at his own hands in disbelief.

“What did you do?” Tony asked.

“I restored a little of his magic. By the time you return, I should have the Nidavellir interference worked out in its entirety, I will be able to release his magic, and you can be on your way again.”

_No, he won’t_. Tony breathed over the smell of desert air and gunpowder that his vivid flashback to Afghanistan had provoked. He had won against the Ten Rings, he would win against Doctor Crazy. He just had to … breathe.

“Great,” he managed. “See you later tonight then. Got to wait for the Museum to close first.”

“Naturally.” Yet another smile from Strange. “I shall be expecting you.”

 

#

 

They were sitting in a restaurant close to Strange’s hotel. It was on the other side of the city, which suited Tony fine, just in case it was Nidavellir following them and not Strange himself. What had happened to that dwarf?

Tony looked down at his plate. Loki had ordered. Burger, wedges, something. Smelled good. Hip restaurant, too. Loki had picked it, maybe Strange had had something to do with that as well … Who knew what exactly this restoration of magic had entailed. But they did need sustenance. Tony dipped one wedge into something that looked like mayonnaise. Considering this place, probably vegan. He looked at Loki again, who was still ignoring him. Great.

“Lars?” No reaction. “Hey, honey? You said —” People at the neighboring table were starting to give them odd looks. Tony dropped his voice. “You said I should work some charm on Clea. She jumped me. I was trying to get rid of her when you walked in, damn it.”

Loki cut a wedge in half with one precise slice of his knife, but didn’t reply.

“Don’t give me that passive-aggressive silent treatment. If you’re mad, get mad. I can take it.”

Loki closed his eyes briefly, then put his knife down and peeled his long fingers away from it. This had to count as progress. He’d let go of his weapon.

“I’m not …” Loki sighed. “That’s not the issue. You can kiss whoever you like.”

“Yeah, right.” They rarely discussed their relationship, but if Tony were to hazard a guess, Loki had to be the jealous type who could carry a grudge for, oh, centuries? Yet another thing Tony should have considered in advance.

“Am I scaring you?” Loki asked, his voice flat.

Tony’s heart was hammering in his throat. He put his knife down, too, before it slipped from his fingers. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Sometimes, you scare the living daylights out of me. And I love it.”

Their eyes locked across the table. Over their delicious food, and in this lovely restaurant in one of the most beautiful cities Tony had ever seen. Discussing … something. About them. And Tony, at least, hadn’t lied. He did love it.

It took fifty-two seconds for Loki to crack a smile. “You’re insane … James.”

“And proud of it.” Tony smiled back. And exhaled. “Alright, how about we figure this out? Doctor Crazy is up to something, I think.”

“Of course he is.” Loki scoffed. “What do you think I have been doing just now?”

“Uh …” Thinking. Yes. That might be a start. What could require Loki’s full attention? “You’re trying to figure out whether it is Strange’s magic that’s interfering with yours.”

“Precisely.” Loki smiled at him again, but Tony still felt like an idiot. Who was jealous now? “I do not know yet, his magic is rather … alien. I do however think that you are entirely right, we should go along with his demands for the time —”

On the table next to them, a woman knocked over her glass with an exuberant gesture of joy or anger, Tony couldn’t tell which from the Swedish. Beer spilled all over her table, and theirs, too. Right. Beer. Alcohol. Tony blinked at the liquid dripping from their table. He could smell it, too. Low percentage, but alcohol nevertheless …

Cold fingers closed around his wrist before he’d even noticed that he’d extended his hand across the table. Loki swirled his free hand, and the alcoholic smell vanished. The only thing dripping from the table now was water, and behind them a waiter approached to mop that up. Tony exhaled.

During the past year, he’d avoided environments where he’d be confronted with alcohol. Receptions on Vanaheim had been the odd exception, but he’d always been prepared for the smell of the famous Vanir wine, and he’d had Loki at his side, declining each and every offer for the both of them. Tony had forgotten, or rather suppressed, how casually alcohol wove through life on Earth. Was the only reason he’d managed to stay sober because he’d been running from even the slightest chance his resolve could be tested? Some resolve then. _Pathetic_ , he thought.

“Look at me,” Loki whispered. Tony did. Into reddish, concerned eyes. He’d made Loki worry again. Loki who had more than enough on his plate at the moment. Loki who half an hour ago had barely been able to stand upright. “You are stronger than your addiction.”

“I’m not so sure,” Tony mumbled. He couldn’t even be selfless enough to —

“I am.” Loki slid his hand into Tony’s, brought it to his lips and kissed it. “Well then. Food first, and then we go to work.”

The game, in other words, was _on_.

Tony took another deep breath, and let the game distract him. “Okay, you were saying, what? You’re not sure whether that interference really is Strange because it’s weird magic?”

“Indeed. Thus, I cannot tell, not without more exposure to his magic. It is a very odd branch, the like of which I have never encountered before. What do we know about him?”

“Well, there’s clearly something shifty about the guy. What about his hands, to start off with? Someone who hides his hands in golden gloves has to have some sort of issue. Especially if he used to be a surgeon. Or so he said, he might have been lying.”

Loki thought it over. “When he touched me, in the museum, I did feel … I think they might have been broken, both of them, so intricately that while he has regained some function, the finer motor skills will forever be beyond him.”

“Ouch.” Used to be a surgeon … Tony tried to think what it would feel like, being theoretically well but unable to ever hold sensitive instruments again … “But can you fix them, do you think?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “And why would I do that?”

Tony shrugged. “I couldn’t care less about the guy myself, but if he’s the one doing this, maybe that’s why. He did say our reputation precedes us and that could’ve referred to something other than … locating stuff. Might make for a good bargaining chip if the ring and our charming personalities are not enough.”

“I see your point. But no. There is nothing I can do about his hands.” Alright then. Had been worth a shot. Maybe Loki was lying, but … no matter now. “We should at any rate establish what his role in all the realms is.”

“Good point. New player, potentially dangerous, potentially unsettling the power balance, yes, I get it.” He might be on the Avengers’ radar, come to think of it. If the Avengers were still operational beyond an action figure franchise. Maybe, in another world, Tony would have worked with Strange. Maybe he would even have liked him … “So we get the ring, go back to him and, what …? Make shit up as we go along until he gives you enough magic to work with?”

Loki chuckled. Oh, how Tony had missed that sound. “That strikes me as an excellent plan.”

“But until then, you’re still sick and, pardon me honey, but you know it, defenseless.”

“Oh, but I am far from defenseless.” Loki squeezed his hand. “I have you.”

 

#

 

They wove their way across Stockholm as night was falling, through the crowds flocking into Södermalm for a night out. Tony could get used to this place, he realized. Between all those well-dressed people, he spotted quite a few rainbow flags in the windows of cafes and shops. But bars were opening everywhere as well, and he accelerated his step when he smelled more alcohol. Thankfully, outside, the fresh sea air took most of it away.

As they approached the museum, the streets had become less busy. Most people were heading into the opposite direction. Just as well.

“Okay then.” Tony looked up at the façade. “One last job, eh?”

Loki didn’t get that reference, so maybe some more Midgardian pop culture education was in order. When they had sorted out their current conundrum.

“Let’s go,” Tony said. It was dark enough to skip the shielding charm. Better preserve Loki’s magic for when they needed it. Tony slung his arm around Loki’s waist again as they ambled around the building to a side entrance.

The door was locked, of course.

“Let’s distract the cameras,” Tony whispered. He pushed Loki against the door and kissed him. He needed an image to loop the camera on, yes, but he also had Loki’s lips on his again, finally, and he was going to enjoy that. The lips were cold, of course, too cold actually, but Tony didn’t mind. Loki hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth, but when he kissed Tony back, it felt like he had been _starving_.

_Oh hells_ , Tony thought. He was never going to stop this, they would not steal the ring and they would ignore Strange and everything else and …

Loki shuddered and wound out of Tony’s hold. “We should move,” he said, altogether too composed.

“Yeah,” Tony managed. He looped the front door security camera and disabled the alarm. “Clear.”

Loki swirled his hand, and the door opened. A moment later, they were in.

The museum hall was dark, no guards in sight. Tony checked his phone. There were two people patrolling the corridors, but they were upstairs at the moment. “Clear,” he whispered.

They moved. The Gold Room had quite a bit of heavy security, but not much of an obstacle for Tony. In a way, it almost felt too easy, but then he realized he had spent the past year trying to get the hang of magical signatures across several realms in outer space. A human security algorithm was a piece of cake in comparison. Maybe they should steal the crown jewels after all. Because … just because.

In the Gold Room, Loki walked up to one of the many show cases on the outer circle displaying piles of rings. “This one.”

Tony set to work on disabling the security sensors and opening the show case. Loki held out his palm, as he had in Lindir’s place, and one of the many golden rings floated out of the pile, an entirely unremarkable, slim ring without ornaments.

“It might be better if you kept custody of this,” Loki said. “It is safe to touch, for you.”

Magic. Distorted input. Right. Tony plucked the ring out of the air and pocketed it.

They should consider putting “Master Ring Locators” on their CVs. Had to be good for something. As long as Sauron didn’t come knocking …

When Tony looked at the case again, nothing appeared to be out of order. It might be years until someone did an inventory of every single last ring and noticed that it was missing. Good. Tony closed the case and put all security measures back in place.

“Let’s move.” He checked his phone. “Actually, let’s not, a guard is just walking past in the entrance hall.”

Loki shrugged, and stalked off towards the stairs. Oh, shit.

“Don’t,” Tony hissed as he tried to keep up with Loki. “Whatever you have in mind, just don’t take it out on some poor security guard.”

No reaction. _You need your magic_ , he didn’t dare say. Instead, he ventured, “No dead civilians. Remember? Please tell me you remember that. You _promised_ me.”

Against expectation, Loki stopped. “I remember.” His voice was shaking. Whatever magic Strange had restored, it was wearing off fast.

Tony wanted to touch him, but didn’t dare.

“I can’t think,” Loki whispered. “What was the plan? What do you want?”

No thought required for that one. “I want you to be well again. Come on. Let’s get this done.”

 

#

 

“Here’s your ring.” Tony resisted the temptation to throw it at Strange, and instead held it out.

Strange shook his head in something close to exasperation. “You do not know anything about magic, do you, Mr Stark?”

That stung. Maybe Strange was trying to provoke him on purpose, though. Better ignore it. Tony looked over at Loki. Who was wavering on his feet again. Great. This had to _stop_. Tony wasn’t sure how much more fluctuations Loki could take. But then, what did he know about magic?

Strange chuckled. “You have this little magic-detecting device in your phone, do you not? Probably the last StarkPhone still in existence.” That didn’t sting. At all. “Let me see.”

“Yeah, uh, no,” Tony said. “We got your ring. Now it’s your turn.”

Tony flinched when someone put an arm on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eyes, he recognized Clea. “You stay right here,” she said. If she was Strange’s magical aide, at least that explained the superhuman strength. Tony found himself wondering whether they’d ever had any unpleasant encounters with Hydra. Or SHIELD.

“Phone,” Clea demanded.

It would be of no use to her, or Strange, and Tony had back-ups. Just not on Earth. Great. He slammed the phone into Strange’s outstretched hand.

And Loki … Loki was wavering on his feet now. That, and his skin was starting to turn blue.

“Well, well, I had better take care of this.” Strange pocketed ring and phone both, then moved over to Loki. Right. That was something Tony should probably not allow, but then, Loki had said he required some more exposure and —

Loki collapsed into Strange’s arms. Should that be happening? Strange was running his gloved hands down Loki’s back, leaving some sort of golden trail. Magic. Right. Yes. Loki needed magic. And some help to process it properly. And he needed to figure out whether Strange was friend or foe. Though, from the way he was holding on to Loki …

“Well, well,” Strange was murmuring. “That is one complex tangle of magic. Quite extraordinary.” He was whispering into Loki’s ear, too, and Loki peered up at him with something akin to gratefulness in his eyes, as if Strange’s mere touch was helping him, when all Tony’s touch did in this situation was cause physical pain. Shit.

“Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?” Strange pulled him closer. Tony blinked, but yes, that definitely qualified as a caress. And Loki … Loki just stood there. Didn’t make an effort to push that guy away or anything. Subconscious payback for the Clea episode at the hotel, or was it really helping, or …

“Welcome back.” Strange withdrew with another smile. “Do you want some more?”

“Yes,” Loki croaked. He didn’t even look at Tony. “Yes, please.”

That was … withdrawal, Tony tried to remind himself. Withdrawal, yes. Loki wasn’t thinking clearly, he only saw a way to regain some of his magic, which he was starving for, dying for, and …

A distant part of Tony, the one that didn’t feel like someone was force-feeding him acid, noted that the blue skin was paling again. Whatever Strange was doing, it was helping. Whatever … he … Fuck.

“Well,” Clea said, from his left side. Tony flinched. “I have to hand it to you, you didn’t try and rip out his throat immediately. Wouldn’t have ended well for you, of course, but still. Odd.”

“Strange. Yeah.” Tony blinked. His brain was crawling. The blue skin had vanished now.

“Enjoying himself there, your lover.”

“He …” Tony cleared his throat. “He’s in pain and he wants it to stop. What the fuck are you doing to him?”

“We’re helping. What are you doing?”

Ouch. “I …” Not thinking, that was for sure.

In that moment, Strange withdrew again. Loki made a noise very close to a whine. Tony had a sudden urge to strangle Strange with his bare hands.

Strange was saying, “You should get some rest. Clea?”

“Certainly.” She stepped in and led Loki away.

Tony stared after them. Loki’s step still wavered, was he going to be okay, should he be left to his own devices … He made a step towards the door, but another chuckle stopped him.

“Oh no, Mr Stark,” Strange said. “You and I need to have a little talk.”

 

#

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took a LOT longer than I anticipated. Whoops? Life happened. But here it is! Thank you very much to everyone who commented in the meantime, you made sure I kept this fic on my mind and the last chapter wouldn’t be here without you :) I have parts of two more fics within this 'verse written (by now rather canon-divergent, but ah well), but I can make no promises as to when (or even if) they’ll ever see the light of day. I’ll try my best though. For now, at least this fic can conclude!

Tony stared at the closed door in disbelief. “If you hurt him, I will —”

“I can assure you, Mr Stark, that is not my intention at all. Have a seat.” Strange himself settled on the sofa. He reached beneath the table and pulled up … a bottle of scotch. “Drink?”

 _No_. Tony’s breath caught somewhere deep inside his lungs. _Oh fuck, no._

Strange produced two tumblers from somewhere, ice and everything. Tony swallowed. Or tried to. His throat had constricted. His heart rate was picking up too.

As Strange opened the bottle and poured, the familiar smell of scotch filled Tony’s nostrils. That. Shit. Loki wasn’t going to turn _that_ into water, was he? Tony’s hands had clenched into fists.

 _You are stronger than your addiction_ , someone whispered in the back of his mind. Loki. He needed …

“Keep it,” he ground out. “I don’t drink.”

“Really now.” Strange leant back on the sofa. “What a shame. It’s an excellent scotch.”

 _I know_ , Tony didn’t say.

 _You are stronger than your addiction_.

He tried to clear his throat. He needed to think. One step at a time. Deep breath. He could do this.

 _You are stronger_.

He managed to swallow, composed himself best he could, straightened his back and looked at Strange. “I. Don’t. Drink.”

“Very well.” Strange smiled at him. “Now, Mr Stark, I do have one question for you. Just the one. What is it you are doing with Loki Laufeyson? What is your intention? He did try to kill you, did he not?”

In the back of Tony’s mind, he saw Phil’s blood on the helicarrier and New York City in flames around him. He felt … he felt like he was falling, with glass splintering everywhere, always falling. He could almost taste the scotch at the back of his throat, too. _Focus_.

“That’s three questions.”

“Uh-huh.” Strange took a deep, slow swallow of scotch. Damn. “Is it because he saved your life, from … liver cancer, was it?” Tony flinched. How the fuck did Strange know that? “Most fascinating. How _did_ you survive? There is no trace of cancer in your body.”

A shiver ran down Tony’s spine. At least, when Loki ran a scan, he could feel it. Probably because Loki let him.

“Well, if you insist, you can always give me back my phone, and I can dig up the medical records for you to drool over.”

Not that they would say anything about the healing process. That had all been Loki’s magic. Tony could have looked into it, of course. But being duplicated again didn’t rank high on his to-do-list. It reminded him of dying.

“Your … phone is interfering with the recovery process,” Strange was saying. That … wasn’t true. But then, could Tony be sure? Strange’s gaze flickered to the scotch, but Tony didn’t follow him. Ignored the scotch he could still smell, that familiar scent that had kept him company for so long when no one else … Focus.

“So, what’s the deal here?” Tony asked. “Don’t tell me you’re stalling because, what …” A terrifying thought crept up on him. “Did you call the Avengers?”

“Should I have?”

So that was a no. No Avengers. Tony exhaled. Just Strange. He could handle just strange. “Alright, then what else is your deal? Why are we here? Neither Loki nor me have even set foot on Earth in the past year. Until you dragged us back here.”

“As I said, I was merely offering my assistance against the dwarves that —”

“Cut the bullshit. _You_ brought us back here.”

“What makes you so sure?” Strange went on, “Maybe it was Mr Laufeyson, hm? He likes playing tricks, does he not? Tricky with exceptionally high body counts. He might yet have put you under his spell, magically or psychologically.”

Subtle. By now, Tony wouldn’t put it past Strange to have brought them to Stockholm just to be able to make that reference. “Are you seriously going to give me Psychology 101 now?”

“I should give you Magic 101. You are prone to meddling in things you don’t understand.”

“And you do?” Tony almost laughed. But he could not allow himself to get side-tracked. What was Strange’s deal? First this obstacle course of their arrival in Stockholm, the hotel, the passports, the museum tickets, Clea’s advances … What was the point?

“I give you one thing,” Strange was saying. “You did not run at the first sign of trouble.”

So blocking off Loki’s magic had been one of the many obstacles, to … see what _Tony_ would do? He frowned.

“I ask again,” Strange said. “What are you doing with Loki Laufeyson?”

Well … Even if Tony wanted, he wasn’t sure he knew how to answer that question. And he’d probably given Strange enough ammunition as it was. So he just shrugged.

It made Strange laugh. “Oh, this is marvellous. Don’t tell me you think this is _love_?”

Tony flinched before he could control himself. They had never, strictly speaking, discussed that. Not in those terms, anyway. “Your concern is really touching, but I think I’ll pass on Psychology 101 after all,” he managed.

“Well.” Strange got to his feet. “This has been most illuminating. I suppose it is time I checked up on Mr Laufeyson. And maybe it is time we checked up on whether he has you under some kind of spell after all?”

This was probably another obstacle, another trap and, Tony remembered only too well how Strange had been able to touch Loki, and how Loki had looked at him, and …but Tony didn’t care. He followed Strange out of the room.

 

#

 

Strange led him to a small, dimly-lit room.

Loki appeared to be asleep, regular breathing and not-blue skin and all. Good. Tony wanted to touch him, desperately, but he couldn’t tell what kind of reaction that would provoke, especially considering Strange’s … help.

“Loki?” he whispered. No reaction.

Strange brushed past him, to the other side of the bed, coat swirling. He didn’t even hesitate when extending a hand and brushing along Loki’s cheeks.

Tony should have had that scotch after all …

Loki opened his eyes and looked at Strange. “Oh,” he purred. “Hello there.”

Strange smiled. “Hello.”

A grin stole onto Loki’s face. _He’s enjoying that_ , Tony thought with desperate clarity. They looked good together. The sorcerers. How could Tony Stark measure up against that? With his silly gadgets and stupid jokes and pathetic addiction and —

“Feeling better?” Strange asked.

“Considerably.” Loki sat up in bed. He was still wavering a little. Strange put a hand on Loki’s arm to steady him. Loki placed his own hand over it with another smile.

Tony just stared. Damn.

“The dwarves have stopped looking for you,” Strange said. “They may be back, you know how they are on Nidavellir …” Loki nodded, laughing. “But for now, you should be safe to recuperate here. When you’re back to full strength, the two of us can think up a more permanent solution to this slight … inconvenience.”

“Thank you,” Loki breathed. He still hadn’t looked at Tony. Any trace of hostility towards Strange had vanished into thin air. But … but they’d been sure Strange was the one doing this to him. Wasn’t he?

“I will go and make dinner arrangements now. Please, rest.” Strange smiled, then indicated Tony. Loki still didn’t look. “I brought Mr Stark along too, since he was pining away like a lovesick puppy.”

What the fuck? But Loki was chuckling. Ouch.

Strange got to his feet, letting go of Loki with seeming reluctance. “Out of interest, though - why do you keep him around?”

Loki just shrugged.

With one more laugh, Strange left the room in his swirling coat.

 

#

 

“Well.” Loki stretched, and finally, _finally_ , turned to look at Tony. “This has been most illuminating,” he said, in an eerie echo of Strange. Tony shivered. There was something wrong with Loki’s eyes, too. They weren’t red anymore, they were just … too cold.

“Are you really feeling better?” Tony asked. His voice was quivering despite his best effort.

“Oh yes. I feel much better. I can see a lot more clearly, too.”

Tony frowned, his heart hammering in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Loki just grinned. It looked … cold. Cruel. Tony took a step backwards. The air in the room felt colder, too, as if Loki’s magic was malfunctioning again, only it felt more familiar, now, more coordinated, as if he was … trying to get into Tony’s mind.

 _Shh_ , Loki’s voice whispered. _They’re listening. Look hurt._

Tony tried, very hard, not to look relieved. Instead he pulled a face, as if in pain. In the back of his mind, he could feel the onset of a horrendous headache. Loki’s magic still had to be under strain.

 _It is_ , Loki said. _We do not have much time. I strongly suspect they’re trying to play us against each other. More fool them. Did he let anything slip about what they’re trying to accomplish?_

Out loud, he said, “It is a good question, actually. Why _do_ I keep you around?”

Tony gasped, for effect. “That’s … You can’t really mean that.”

He thought, _He’s not a fan of us, safe to say. Thinks we’re messing with stuff we don’t understand. Probably wants to make sure we don’t try and destroy the galaxy again_. Not an entirely unreasonable plan, from Strange’s point of view. The things Tony had fucked up by wanting to do the right thing … He gasped again, this time for real.

 _Shhh_ …, Loki whispered. A cold touch of magic coasted along Tony’s cheek, in quiet reassurance. _We’re not letting_ them _win, are we?_

 _No_. Tony shuddered. The taste of scotch was resurfacing. He sagged against the wall. _What do we do? What about his magic?_

_From what I have gathered, he has the ability to walk in and out of dimensions as he pleases, always shifting from one level to another … But he is underestimating us. He might be in control of those dimensions, but my magic comes from the narrow spaces in between and while Strange …_

Loki said something else, but Tony had stopped listening. He was thinking about that scotch. Why hadn’t he at least had that, it would have helped keep a clear head and —

A sharp, ice-cold _Tony_ cut through his hazy thoughts. He flinched. _I have his signature pinned down, as close as possible, at any rate. You need to construct a force field that runs interference so he cannot access it. I will do the rest. I’ve had time to gather enough magic for that._

Focus. Tony needed to _focus_. Force field. Interfere with a magical signature. He needed … he needed his phone.

 _Upper left pocket_ , Loki whispered. _Why do you think I let him get close?_

 

#

 

Strange returned himself with a tray of food, instead of sending one of his minions. Excellent. Loki was on the bed still, smiling. Tony stood by the door. When Strange had entered, Tony brought the force field to life, encompassing the entire room. In the shortness of time, he’d only succeed in dampening Strange’s magic, not block access altogether. That one was on Loki.

Strange arched an eyebrow. “What is it that you think you are doing, Mr Stark?”

“Not repeating myself, for one.”

The force field was holding, according to his scanner, but Strange’s magic was already at work, deconstructing the entire thing. Damn, he was good. They had to hurry.

“Well now.” Loki got to his feet and stretched. “ _That’s_ better. Thanks, honey.” He grinned at Tony.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Strange said.

“Yeah, right. You’d like that, eh?” Tony ventured a laugh. “Too bad, Dr Crazy.”

“You think this silly device and some cheap magic tricks will —” He frowned, but didn’t - couldn’t - continue speaking.

“So, my dear Sorcerer Supreme.” Loki smiled, thin and dangerous. “I suppose that resolves this slight … inconvenience. Permanently.”

The iciness in his voice made Tony shiver. A warning, to the multiverse, a warning he didn’t even have to spell out. _Stay the fuck away from us._

“Shall we?” Loki turned to Tony.

“Yeah.” Tony got to his feet as well. “Let’s go. Although I’ve grown quite fond of this city, I have to admit.”

“It is rather marvellous, is it not? We can come back any time.”

“I’d like that. Oh, and one more thing …” Tony turned to Strange. “If you feel you have to call the Avengers after all … Give my best to Steve.”

On that note, he took Loki’s outstretched hand and exhaled a sigh of relief as the familiar swirl of teleportation washed Stockholm away.

 

#

 

When Tony opened his eyes again, it took him a moment to recognize the place. One of their smaller safe houses on Jötunheim, which could be left and destroyed at a moment’s notice without any damage to their infrastructure. So even if Strange somehow managed to track them here, they could just wipe this place off the interrealm map and still be safe.

“Okay,” he said. “That was …” _Strange_. “Loki?”

He had collapsed onto the sofa, head leaned back against the pillow, eyes closed.

Tony’s breath caught. “Are you okay?”

Loki opened his eyes and smiled, weakly. “I will be.”

“Oh. Good.” Tony remained standing, shifting from one foot to the other, fists clenching and unclenching. “Uhm …”

“Come here.”

Oh, thank fuck. Tony shuffled over to the sofa and sat down next to Loki, who threw an arm around his shoulder. Tony leaned in gratefully and pressed a brief kiss on Loki’s lips.

“Hmmm.” Loki smiled. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Me?” Tony frowned. “Yeah. Sure. Peachy. Why?”

Loki crooked his head and gave him one of those long, uncomfortable looks. “Oh, _Tony_.”

“What?” he snapped, more confused than angry. Tired, most of all.

Loki reached for Tony’s right hand, raised it up and kissed the knuckles. Over their intertwined hands, Loki gave him another long look. “We cannot allow for this to happen again. Being caught off guard. I can’t … We need to take additional precautions.”

“Yeah,” Tony mumbled, only half following the conversation.

“We need safe houses on Midgard. Cover IDs, passports, bank accounts … What else?”

Right, Loki wasn’t going to let this go. So Tony made himself think. “That’s … that should do, to begin with. Sounds simple enough.” They owned a large amount of gold, after all, and if all else failed, Tony could always help himself to one of Hydra’s remaining off-shore accounts. But going back to Earth … “Are we talking the States, too?”

“Perhaps it would be best to start in Europe.”

“Agreed.” Tony breathed another sigh of relief. He wasn’t ready to go back to the States. Not quite yet. “Stuff on Earth. You got it. Anything else?”

“I will have to reweave my own protection.” Loki didn’t seem too happy about it. Not much got to him, after all. “I will require your data, and your help, for tests.”

“Sure.” It meant he could be of direct use to Loki, that was good. And learn more about magic along the way.

“In addition …” Loki swallowed. What else could there be? “Once, you mentioned that there was a substance on Midgard that would accelerate mortal healing. Make people endure more.”

“You mean Extremis?” Tony frowned. “It’s unstable. Turns people into insane killing machines.” Maybe not that much of a change … “Or makes them explode, and we’re talking the literal kind of explode here.”

“But if it were stable, you would survive exposure on Jötunheim? Or a serious wound? Or … if that vile disease returns …” Loki shuddered. “Can you stabilize Extremis?”

“Uh …” Tony could see the benefits, of course, he wouldn’t have to worry about a recurrence of cancer, and yes, there was that point that he couldn’t travel the Nine Realms as freely as he might like, at least not without a suit, and those, well … If he managed to stabilize Extremis, maybe even find a way to combine it with some of the suit’s more useful functions, he wouldn’t have to rely on Loki, be another burden for him to fix. “I guess, yeah. I mean, it’s got to work somehow, right.”

“Freyja might have a thing or two to say on the matter. If you wish to involve her.”

Vanaheim, the home of warm, healing magic. Extremis, after all, was fire.

“Okay,” Tony said. He could see the relief in Loki’s eyes, and that alone was worth it. “Okay, let’s go to Vanaheim and kick around a few ideas. Just … why is _my_ safety so important all of a sudden?”

It wasn’t so sudden, though. There had been that incident with the alcohol in the restaurant and the remnants of the headache he could still feel and …

“I could tell you,” Loki said, “but I doubt you would believe me. I doubt you ever will.”

“What do you mean? Believe what?”

“That you are loved.”

Tony flinched, far more violently than such a claim merited. Loki had never … “But —”

“See? You don’t believe it,” Loki interrupted. “I’m not surprised. But here’s the thing, Tony. Your insecurities do not get a say in this. In fact, you do not get a say in this at all. I was simply stating a fact. You _are_ loved. _I_ love you.”

Tony blinked. His eyes felt wet for some reason. And he should probably reply. He’d said it before, once, in the beginning, hardly thinking, and they’d never spoken of it again, but now … “I, uh … I love you too.”

Loki pulled Tony closer and kissed him, one of those melting, deep kisses, full of relish and worship and, yes, love. Tony only hesitated a moment before he kissed Loki back.

 _You are loved_.

Did he believe it? He wasn’t sure. He’d settle for believing it for the next couple of minutes. That would be nice. It might mean that for once, he’d be able to breathe. Just breathe …

 

###

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings (beware of spoilers): Tony’s alcoholism and recovery are constant themes of the Invincible ‘verse. References to the first part will include mentions of terminal illness. Dubious consent does, for once, not involve Tony and Loki, but they both clearly have no idea how a “healthy relationship” is supposed to work. Strange will think it’s an abusive one, but Tony won’t. I hope that covers it. Do proceed with caution.


End file.
